Rainbow Six: November Sky
by paul.writes
Summary: Rainbow contends with a new terrorist threat that has emerged on the global stage, igniting a storm... and at the center of it all, Finka must fight her own battle as her muscular neuropathy disease returns with a vengeance.
1. Chapter 1: Microbots or Whatever

**_AUTHOR'S NOTE:_ **_Chapters are fairly short because my main platform is Instagram, where I post my work on a maximum of 10 slides. I sincerely thank you for dropping by, and I hope you enjoy Rainbow Six: November Sky. - Paul _

**CHAPTER 1: "MICROBOTS OR WHATEVER"**

_FEBRUARY 19, 2018_  
_RAINBOW HQ - HEREFORD, ENGLAND_

Aleksandr "Tachanka" Senaviev glanced around the medical bay, not bothering to hide the anxiety in his eyes.

The large room was cold, sterile. Lifeless. The hard sheen of the fluorescent lights on the ceiling tracks were shielded by blue glass, casting a light blue aura across the bay. Sinister tools and devices sat on stainless steel trays and carts, and Alex swallowed hard when he saw a series of syringes arranged neatly in clear, plastic capsules.

The needle of each syringe was substantially longer than the one before it, and Finka lifted the third syringe from its capsule.

Tachanka gulped. "Is this absolutely necessary?"

Finka flicked the syringe. "Yes." She looked over at the man, her eyes glimmering. "I find it funny that the great Lord Senaviev is is afraid of needles, of all things. Relax, Alex. It will only take a minute. Maybe two."

"Don't call me that."

"What?"

"You know what." Alex rolled his eyes. "Lord. I hate that shit. Who started it?"

Finka shrugged.

"Tell me, Lera."

"Jäger. Well, Jäger and Bandit, to be specific."

"I should have known."

Finka chuckled. "Could have something to do with you moving to ban their ACOGs at that IAF conference." The woman tapped the syringe in her fingers and watched some of the liquid secreted within squirt into the air. "Nervous?"

Tachanka snorted and straightened in his chair. "No."

"I think you are."

"That so?"

"Yes - and not just about the needles. Which arm?"

Alex held out his left arm, palm up. "Why is that?"

The woman rolled her chair close to him, and tapped the skin on the man's forearm. "Oh, good. You have good veins. We're going to get an IV started. Doc will be here any moment."

Senaviev clenched his jaw. "Just get it over with."

Lera sterilized the area and gently pushed the needle into his vein. She saw the muscles in Alex's forearms bulge as he tightened his hand into a fist. "Relax your arm, Alex."

He sighed, but obeyed.

"I think you're nervous about more than the needle," she continued, "because you already know that Jäger is the one who got everybody to start calling you 'Lord' Tachanka." Finka was grinning as she tied the small tourniquet around his arm and made sure the IV was properly secured. "Why pretend otherwise?"

"I hate needles," Alexsandr blurted. "I've been shot. I've taken shrapnel. I've been stabbed." He looked down at the IV in his arm. "Fucking needles, though."

"Don't trust me?"

Tachanka's face hardened. "These... nanobots you've created - they go directly into the bloodstream?"

"That's right."

"It's not you that I don't trust, Lera." The man bit his lip. "Microscopic bots made of... wait, what are they made of?"

Finka set her eyes on his, and was careful to project calm. "We've been over this. You're just stalling. Everyone else has had the injection already, without issue."

"No, I just-"

"They're zinc nanites," Lera interrupted impatiently. "They will remain dormant in your bloodstream until activated, at which point your system will instantly absorb the nutrients. You'll get a surge of adrenaline, painkillers, the works." She paused. "Think of it as Gustave's STIM shot... just more potent."

Senaviev shook his head and muttered something inaudible before sinking back onto the exam table.

The automatic door to the medical bay slid open with a soft pinging noise emitting from the sensor, and Gustave "Doc" Kateb walked in, nodding his greetings. "Alex, Lera. Sorry I'm late."

"Speak of the devil." Finka disposed of her nitrile gloves to swap out for a new pair.

"Talking about me?" Doc asked with a grin. "All good things, yes?"

"Sure."

Tachanka seized his moment to act on mischief. "Lera was just telling me about her nanobots being more effective than your STIM shots, Doc."

Finka's face remained blank. "That is not what I said."

Doc chuckled as he wheeled a portable monitoring station over next to the exam table. "In a way, she's right."

"Not how I phrased it though."

"I suspect that's true, Lera." Doc fired a smirk at Alex as he snapped on his nitrile gloves, and he began running EKG lines from the monitor and sticking the electrode stickers to key points of Tachanka's shirtless torso.

Finka saw Alexsandr tensing. "Alex, please relax. They're just to monitor your heartbeat while we inject the nanobots."

"All this talk of injecting nanobots, and no actual injection," Alex growled. "I don't like this."

"You'll be fine. You just-"

Without warning, Tachanka sat up on the table and ripped the electrode stickers off his body.

"Alex? Stop." Finka shot up from her chair and instinctively reached for the man, but he batted her hand away. "Alex!"

Tachanka ignored her pleas. He got to his feet and pulled his t-shirt on.

Doc shifted his weight. "Alexsandr, you have nothing to fear. The Director cleared this procedure weeks ago. There is no risk to-"

"No risk?" Alex scoffed. "I'm not letting anyone pump microbots or whatever into my body." He turned to leave.

Finka back-pedaled, raising her hands in a plea. "Wait. Just give me more time to explain the science to you."

"It's not about that."

"You can trust this process! I've refined it through mountains of research, and it's been tested by both the FSB and Spetsnaz."

Alexsandr shouldered past Finka and stepped out of the medical bay and into the hall, which led to the robotics and research laboratories near the experimental testing ground and firing range.

Finka followed him. "Alex! Wait."

He ignored her and kept walking, so the woman jogged to catch up, and stepped in front of him to halt his pace.

Tachanka sighed. "No. If I do this, I'm giving someone control over something in my damned bloodstream. Not happening."

"What? It's just for healing and performance enhancement."

"You didn't grow up with the KGB, Lera. I've seen what happens when you give someone else too much control." The man lifted his arm to scratch at the side of his head, and Finka could not help but notice the way his shirt hugged the curve of his bicep. "Not going down that route." He moved to walk around her, but the woman gently pressed her hand to his midriff to stop him.

"I'm not the KGB." Finka lowered her voice. "You know of my health issues. You know why I've devoted my life to this. I'm here to do my part."

Alexsandr sighed and met Finka's eyes with his. Her usual steely gaze was not to be found; her eyes were wide, urgent... concerned, even. He was not accustomed to seeing that light in her face.

"You said you've been shot, stabbed. I saw the scars." Lera stepped closer, and gently touched her palm to the man's stomach, near his hip. "When the bullet hit, you felt sharp, searing pain here." Her voice was soft, just above a whisper. "It radiated in waves, burning, knifing through your nerves."

Tachanka nodded wordlessly.

"If I was there, you would not have felt it. That pain would be washed away before it could begin." Finka allowed a soft smile up at him. "This is not about control, Alex. This is about protection." She let her hand fall from his body. "This is about me being here for all of you... but I can't be there for you if you won't let me."

At long last, the man exhaled deeply and uttered a small growl of defeat. "Damn it, Lera. Fine. Just make it quick, yes?"


	2. Chapter 2: Hard Times

**CHAPTER 2: "HARD TIMES"**

_HEREFORD, ENGLAND_

_UNCLE TOMMY'S STEAKHOUSE_

_SEPTEMBER 2, 2019 - MONDAY NIGHT_

Lera "Finka" Melnikova sat by herself at a table in a dark corner of the steakhouse. Dim lighting accompanied lively banter and chatter amongst the pub's patrons, and slurred shouts mixed with drunken laughter and the clinking of glasses and silverware.

It was raining outside, as it always seemed to be, and Finka gazed out at the darkness beyond the droplet-stained glass. The dull glow from the overhead lamp cast half of her face in shadow, and she found her own eyes for a fleeting moment before averting her gaze and tilting her glass of vodka to her lips.

She wondered for a moment if she found vodka too refreshing.

"Well, look who it is."

Finka turned to see Tachanka had wandered in. The bear of a man let out an obnoxious sigh as he sank into the seat across from her.

"Listen to you, Alexsandr." She smirked before downing the rest of her vodka. "Like an old man."

Alex folded his arms. "I'm not afraid to say that this seat is damned comfortable."

"Oh, so I was mistaken."

_"__Da."_

The woman rolled her eyes. "Drink?"

"Mm."

As Alex turned and raised his arm to catch the attention of the nearest waiter, the front door to the steakhouse opened again, allowing the sound of heavy rain to flow in like an aroma. Finka turned to see her teammates, Shuhrat "Fuze" Kessikbayev and Maxim "Kapkan" Basuda, enter, and flagged them down with a wave.

Shuhrat sat across the table next to Tachanka, and Maxim slid into the seat next to Finka.

One of the waiters reached their tableside, producing a small notepad and pen with practiced efficiency. "Good evening. What can I get you?"

"Vodka," Alex replied. "Couple rounds of shots."

Finka straightened in her seat. "We'll take the bottle, actually."

Her proclamation elicited a hearty cheer from the men around her, and the waiter chuckled. "Bottle of vodka for our Russian friends." He smiled at them. "Russian Standard, like last time?"

The woman nodded.

"Very well. I'll be right back with that, and we can get you some food."

Nearly an hour later found the Spetsnaz foursome feasting on hearty helpings of fish and chips, bangers and mash, and chicken wings. They had obliterated most of the bottle of Russian Standard before the food had arrived, and Finka found herself beyond tipsy as she poured another shot of vodka.

Kapkan nudged her with his elbow. "Slow it down, hm?"

"Fuck off, Max."

The man laughed and raised his own shot glass. "To comrade Glazkov, who couldn't be here with us tonight because he's busy training recruits."

The others chuckled and raised their glasses. Tachanka looked to Finka, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "How about a toast from you, Lera?"

_"__Da,"_ chimed Fuze. "You invited us all here, after all."

Finka's wide smile began to fade. She watched the shot glass in her fingers' grasp, her hand lingering in mid-air. The lights of the restaurant began to fade out of focus, blurring the vodka in her glass. Her head swayed with alcohol's embrace, but she knew it wasn't the source of the haze in her vision.

"Lera?"

The woman blinked. "To hard times, comrades. They make us who we are."

Alex, Shuhrat, and Maxim all exchanged glances. Finka's words washed over them, and much like the vodka that burned their throats and warmed their guts, it settled in and deepened with each passing moment.

Alexsandr shifted in his seat. "Lera."

Finka's eyes were fixed on her hands, and she was fidgeting about with them on the table. She could feel the tears beginning to form.

"Lera."

The woman bit her lip and wrung her hands together. She bowed her head in embarrassment as she tried to stifle the tears welling up in her eyes. Sorrow was beginning to weigh upon her. One of Finka's greatest nightmares was to look weak to the men in front of her.

"Lera," Tachanka tried again patiently. He cast an uneasy glance at his companions before reaching across the table and putting a gentle hand on the woman's forearm. "What's wrong?"

Miraculously, Finka willed the impending tears away. She squared herself and nodded at Alexsandr, who lifted his hand from her arm. "I brought you boys here tonight because I… I have some news." She sniffed. "It's not good."

The men shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Fuze took the bottle and poured some more vodka into Finka's glass.

"No more," she whispered. "Thank you."

Shuhrat nodded. "Tell us what's going on, Melnikova. You know we've got your back."

"What's wrong?" asked Kapkan.

Finka took a deep breath and exhaled deeply. "You all know I've been in remission for some time now. I grew up in Gomel, and you know how it was there for us after Chernobyl." She paused and bit her lip. "Doc and Lion know what I'm about to tell you. I knew Glaz wasn't going to be able to make it here tonight, so I told him too."

Tachanka was surprised at how much it stung him to know that Lera had not confided in him or the other Russians first, but he forced that feeling aside and clasped his hands together. "You're making us nervous. What is it?"

"Well, Alex…." Finka trailed off. She defied her earlier request of Shuhrat and took the shot of vodka he had poured for her, ignoring the burn and slamming the glass down to the table. "Okay. Here it is. My condition - the peripheral neuropathy - it's back. I'm out of remission."

The others stared in shock. Alex opened his mouth to speak, but could say nothing. Maxim's gaze fell to the crumb-filled plate in front of him. Shuhrat let out a low whoosh of air, feeling like he had been punched in the stomach.

Finka swallowed hard. "Doc spotted it first. I have him to thank."

"What do you mean he 'spotted' it?" asked Kapkan.

"He's been helping me for some time now with my research, monitoring my personal health reports, progress charts." The woman flashed a tragic smile. "He saw warning signs a couple weeks ago. Then the numbness started last week. Felt it in my fingers when I was carrying my gear to the firing range. I hoped to God I was imagining it, but when I started grouping drills with my .308, I realized I couldn't feel the trigger."

More silence fell across the group. The voices of the other patrons all blended together into one inaudible buzz, and thunder in the Hereford sky punctuated it all with a muffled roar beyond the rain-stained windows.

It was Kapkan who cleared his throat and finally broke the silence. "So where does that leave us?"

Finka smiled. It warmed her that Maxim had said 'us' - one word made her feel like she wasn't alone. "Six has pulled me off the Ready List. It's important that I continue my training and fitness regimen, and thankfully she agrees." She suddenly bowed her head and groaned, covering her. "Oh, fuck."

Her comrades burst into a chorus of laughter, and Maxim clapped a hand to her shoulder. "Vodka is tasteless going down… but is memorable coming up, yes?"

"Fuck off, Max."

"That's twice she's said that to me tonight," Kapkan chuckled. "I must be doing something right."

The men shared another laugh as Finka stood shakily and made her way across the pub to the restroom. When she was out of sight, they all shared their dismay with hung heads and slurred curses.

While her companions ached over the news, Finka steadied herself on the restroom sink and looked at herself in the mirror the best she could. The walls seemed to be moving, and she scolded herself for drinking too much, too fast.

She berated herself for not finding a longer term treatment. A cure. Anything. Lera had some of the best tech in the world, a bottomless budget and state of the art facilities, and yet she had failed in her endeavors.

Finka washed her hands and splashed water on her face. She knew she was being too hard on herself.

She didn't care.


	3. Chapter 3: The Pashkov House

**CHAPTER 3: "THE PASHKOV HOUSE"**

_SEPTEMBER 4, 2019_

_MOSCOW, RUSSIA_

_KHAMOVNIKI DISTRICT_

_THE PASHKOV HOUSE_

The famed Pashkov House was always a sight to behold, even for Matvei Federov, who had spent much of his adult life living in Moscow. The man stopped at the base of the stone steps leading to the front portico and gazed solemnly upward at the front facade of the mansion.

His eyes wandered over the tall stone columns that loomed above. Most of the windows glowed with warm light, and Matvei took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, careful to steady his nerves.

Tonight was crucial. Everything depended on him, and on the men waiting inside. Matvei thrusted his hands into his jacket pockets and began ascending the stairs. He could feel the eyes of the security guards upon him.

The pair of guards nodded their greetings, and one stepped aside to let him through the front doors.

Matvei voiced his thanks, but slowed to a stop. "One of you have a smoke?"

Both guards shook their heads. Matvei noticed the glance that one shot to the other.

"Mm." Matvei looked at one of the guards, then the other. "Do I really have to do this every time?"

Neither guard answered.

"Fine." Federov cleared his throat. "I'm in the market for a rare book. Perhaps you could help."

The taller guard shrugged. "Ask one of the librarians inside. We're just security."

Federov rolled his eyes. "I'm looking for Krylov's Fables - the 1855 edition."

"Ah." The taller guard reached into his coat pocket and produced a pack of cigarettes. He took one for himself and handed one to Federov before offering a light. "In that case, follow me."

Rather than lead Federov through the front entrance, the guard gestured for him to follow as they strolled along a path outside the mansion, leaving the other security guard at the front doors.

"Honestly," Federov groaned, "you know me by now. Stop making me do the stupid password/test thing."

"Rules are rules, sir."

"It's tiresome and redundant."

The guard stopped abruptly and turned to face Matvei. "Mr. Krishkin would disagree, sir - I believe it would be best for you to remember this."

Federov cocked his head, not averting his eyes from the other man's gaze. "And I would suggest you remember who you are speaking to. I am going to meet with Mr. Krishkin behind closed doors. You are not." He stepped closer to the guard. "Let us continue on before things get worse for you."

Both men stared each other down for a long moment. Wind rustled the leaves of the trees outside the mansion, and the guard seemed to finally grasp the weight behind Federov's words. He turned away and grunted his acceptance, and the pair resumed their trek around the mansion perimeter.

They crossed a beautiful courtyard and rounded the corner to the rear of the mansion beneath an overhanging portico on the second floor, stepping through shadows cast by tall stone columns and proud trees.

Instead of ascending the rear outdoor staircase to the ornate back porch, they passed it and stole into a narrow staircase leading down into a shadowy basement entrance, completely hidden from the view of any passersby or would-be intruders.

A dying lightbulb above a wrought-iron door flickered on and off, revealing another guard stationed outside. This man wore a leather jacket and jeans instead of the security staff uniform the other guards wore. He straightened when Federov and his escort neared. "Matvei."

"Boris." Federov offered a brisk nod. "How are things?"

"Would be better with vodka," the man remarked, stepping aside and opening the door for Federov. "Mr. Krishkin and the others are waiting for you."

A minute later, Federov was seated at a large table in a dimly lit basement cellar with four other men. He peered through the cigarette smoke clouding the air at the faces around the table, partly covered by hard shadows. It always reminded him of a backroom poker game in an American mafia movie.

Boris had followed Federov in and quietly shut the door behind them both before assuming his post inside. He opened his jacket, revealing a dual-shoulder holster rig and two nickel-plated handguns, folded his arms, and leaned against the wall casually.

The man at the head of the table - the mysterious Mr. Krishkin - straightened his suit and leaned forward. His face was creased with frown lines, and his steely eyes were fearless and unforgiving.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," Krishkin said. He leaned forward and clasped his hands together. "The day draws near. I want to thank you all for offering your services, and the work you've done to get us this far. Russia will thank you." He looked to Boris. "Boris, bring the drinks, please."

The bodyguard nodded and slipped into a side door that led to the large staffing kitchen. A moment later he returned, followed by a beautiful young woman balancing a tray of glasses and two bottles of vodka on ice. She set the tray down and expertly filled each glass in one sweeping motion, drawing eager glances from the men at the table.

Krishkin waited for the woman to finish. When she had served everyone their glass and exited the room, he continued. "Comrades," he declared solemnly, raising his glass, "a week from now, President Vikhrov intends to meet with the Americans and Chinese in Washington, D.C. Our president tells our people he is working towards a brighter future. He tells them that we must change with the times - he is calling it "compromise." This is simply not true."

The other men nodded their agreement, exchanging glances with one another in silent camaraderie.

"It is not compromise." Krishkin swept his gaze over the others. "President Vikhrov is bowing to the west. He weakens our country with each passing month. I have vowed, as you all have, to not let this happen."

The man sitting next to Federov, a bald man known simply as Antonov, slapped the table excitedly with his open palm. "Damn right," he chimed. "Russia bows to no one - especially not any fucking Americans."

Krishkin smiled. "Precisely. Let us drink to the future." He raised his glass high. "To Mother Russia."

The other men echoed his toast and downed their shots of vodka.

Nobody noticed that Federov did not drink.

A round of cheers erupted from the table, and Krishkin held up his hands to quiet his companions.

"If all goes well, President Vikhrov will not live to see that meeting. We shall remove him from this world, and be done with him." Krishkin's face hardened. "Prime Minister Chernyev will fill the vacancy, and our plans will become a reality."

The men cheered again.

Krishkin grinned, looking sinister in the dim light. "With our comrade Chernyev at the helm, Russia will enter a new era. This will be—"

Loud beeping sounded throughout the room. Federov watched realization cross his companions' faces as they all scooped their phones out of their pockets.

He saw their eyes go wide upon reading their screens. Krishkin and the others were in such shock that they didn't even notice Federov standing and carefully pushing his chair in.

"No," Antonov gasped. "It cannot be."

Krishkin was shaking his head in stunned silence. "Prime Minister Chernyev found…." he drew a sharp breath and exhaled deeply. "Found dead. Cause of death unknown."

At that moment, Antonov lurched in his seat and began gagging. His comrades looked on in shock before they, one by one, followed suit and began vomiting blood and retching violently.

Krishkin sank to his knees with a thud, clutching his throat, and looked to Federov desperately.

Matvei Federov knelt in front of the terrorist leader. "Poison," he whispered. "You all thought yourselves so smart, and the oldest trick in the book brings you down."

"Federov… you… son of a—"

Federov just smiled. "Do not worry, Mr. Krishkin - President Vikhrov will meet his end. Just… not the way you envisioned." He stood and turned his back on the man, not even bothering to watch Krishkin choke on his last breaths.

Boris the bodyguard was still standing at the door with a forlorn smile. "That was easier than it should have been."

"Indeed, comrade." Federov straightened the collar of his jacket and cast a glance at the dead bodies on the floor. "Three of them were on Interpol's Most Wanted list. Now look at them."

"Shall I get rid of the girl, Matvei?"

"I suppose so. Shame - she is quite pretty. Make it quick and clean."

Boris nodded and stole into the side door to the kitchen once again, leaving Federov on his own with the corpses.

Federov shook his head. "Rest in peace, you who aimed too low," he whispered. He turned and exited the basement of Pashkov House, knowing that the security guards he had met at the front entrance were already dead.

The Washington D.C. meeting needed to happen. Federov's mission was far more ambitious than Krishkin's had been. It would be best to slay three dragons in one swing of the sword, and with the leaders of Russia, the United States, and China all in one location, this was an opportunity that could not be missed.


	4. Chapter 4: Pace Yourself, Lera

****CHAPTER 4: "PACE YOURSELF, LERA"****

_SEPTEMBER 5, 2019_

_RAINBOW HQ - HEREFORD, ENGLAND_

_EARLY MORNING_

Finka stood in the shower and eased both palms to the wall before leaning against it. She bowed her head and buried her face in her arms, trying to savor the warm water that ran through her hair and over her skin.

Mild spasms of pain pricked her knuckles every few seconds, a sensation that Lera likened to her foot falling asleep if she sat on it for too long. She gritted her teeth as a seemingly random numbness crawled across her back, making the skin around her left shoulder blade tingle uncomfortably.

The woman tried to reach behind her to scratch at it, but the tingling fled her grasp into the middle of her back, where she could not reach.

She sighed and turned to press her back to the wall, and she moved up and down against the wet tiles to relieve the itch she could not scratch - but just as she began to find relief, the numbness disappeared.

It was beginning.

Lera clenched her teeth and turned to lean into the wall beneath the shower head again, willing herself to focus on the soothing hot water and vapor that enveloped her body.

Peripheral neuropathy was the bane of Finka's existence, yet also the source of her accomplishments. It had affected her muscles and nerves since she was a teenager, and her particular condition was not reversible.

Her work and research had staved it off for much longer than she had ever anticipated, yet here she was, forced to face it again as it walked out of her nightmares and back into her life.

Lera suddenly began coughing, her body spasming as the coughs rolled into an uncontrollable cadence. A doctor of hers had once compared these fits to those of asthmatics.

The coughs kept coming. Her airway felt tight, and Lera doubled over beneath the running water, resting her hands on her knees and trying to catch her breath. The hot vapor filling the shower made it difficult to do so.

Finka growled and stood straight. She steeled herself, shut her eyes, and began breathing. In, out. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Three seconds in. Three seconds out. Four seconds in. Four seconds out.

This was not her neuropathy. This was a panic attack, and the fact that she was so familiar with it irked Lera to no end.

Weakness was unacceptable.

Deep breath in through the nose. Out through the mouth. In. Out.

A sudden spasm of pain shot down her lower back all the way to her calves. The shock made Lera gasp in surprise, and she knelt to one knee in the shower, grimacing against the pain.

She had not expected such strong symptoms so soon.

She took a deep breath, let out a mighty whoosh of air and watched the water trickle off her body and run to the drain, swirling around it like a whirlpool before vanishing into the pipes hidden from view.

Lera thought momentarily that life itself was, perhaps, much like water: circling the drain until the day the last drop disappeared.

She then shook her head to snap herself out of it. Her legs burned from the cardio session she had just finished with IQ and Valkyrie, and perhaps it had taken a greater toll on her body than she had anticipated.

The sound of the women's locker room door opening from beyond the shower curtain jarred Lera from her thoughts. She could hear Monika "IQ" Weiss shouting something to someone in passing before shutting the door behind her.

Finka sighed before shakily getting to her feet, still trying to catch her breath. She heard Monika let her duffle bag fall to one of the benches with a thud, and the metallic clank of her locker swinging open.

"Lera?" Monika called over the running water. "You good?"

Lera pretended not to hear her, and tried her best to ignore the twitching muscles in her legs.

"Harry said that's our best time yet for the five-mile," Monika continued, slamming her locker shut. "Meghan was two seconds off her personal best. She's pretty pissed."

Lera clenched her jaw. "I bet."

A wordless minute went by. IQ started the water in a nearby shower, and when Finka heard her step in and draw the curtain shut, she sank carefully back down to the shower floor and sat cross-legged under the hot water.

The woman closed her eyes and took comfort in the mist around her, as if it were a blanket shielding her from further pain.

If only.

"You going to the range after this?" Monika called.

Lera didn't open her eyes. "Negative. Heading to the lab to run some diagnostics."

"Nanobots?"

"Yes." She liked IQ, but Finka was not in the talking mood.

"Let me or Pichon know if you need any help."

"Will do."

Another wordless minute passed before Lera got to her feet again and shut off her shower. She quickly shoved the curtain aside, dried off, got dressed, and left the locker room.

She soon reached her dorm, and she let her bag fall to the floor as she shut the door behind her, grateful for privacy.

Lera didn't even bother taking off her shoes. She sank into bed and pulled out her phone to quickly text Doc about her worsening symptoms.

Going to lab to run some tests, she wrote.

Doc replied seconds later.

_No. Rest up first. I'll help when ur ready._

Finka sighed and swept her blanket over her, even covering her face to block out the world. "Pace yourself, Lera," she breathed. "One step at a time."

Rainbow Director Harishva "Harry" Pandey was in his office going over performance reviews for the recruits when his secretary paged his desk.

"Harry, I have Doug on the line. It's urgent."

The man set his glasses down on the folder in front of him. "Thank you Anya. Patch me through."

"Harry," came a man's voice a moment later. "We have a situation." Douglas Lilly was the on-site CIA liaison to Rainbow, and Harry could tell from his tone that there was no time for formalities.

"What do we have, Doug?"

"Explosion at the Russian Embassy in Brussels. Hostage situation, potential bomb threat. CIA is negotiating with Belgium for a response by Rainbow."

"One moment, please." Harry buzzed Anya. "Situation imminent. Have Ash and Sledge gather Teams 1 and 2 for emergency response. Please ping Harvell and the others and let them know I'll be there shortly."

"Yes, sir. Teams 1 and 2 will be on standby for immediate departure."

"Thank you." Harry clicked back onto the call with Doug. "Prepping for a response, Doug. Hopefully your friends at the Agency can convince them to let us in. What do we know so far?"


	5. Chapter 5: Not Muckin' About

**CHAPTER 5: "NOT MUCKIN' ABOUT"**

Eliza "Ash" Cohen slung her R4-C assault rifle over her shoulder and jogged out of the armory doors and onto the neighboring outdoor airstrip. The rest of Team 1 followed: Montagne, Twitch, Thatcher, Nøkk, and Maverick.

Seamus "Sledge" Cowden was right behind her, and Team 2 was on his heels: Valkyrie, Lion, Rook, Doc, and Glaz.

Lieutenant Colonel Amelia Acevedo already had their plane, an unmarked Beechcraft C-12 Huron, prepared for takeoff. All twelve operators filed onboard, hurriedly stowed their gear, and took their seats.

Harry boarded last. Unlike his predecessor, Director Arnot, Harry preferred to travel to mission sites with the deployed teams. He wasted no time in pulling his headset over his ears, and his operators followed suit as Lt. Col. Acevedo eased the plane's twin engines to life.

"Everyone got me?" Harry asked, tapping one of his headphones.

Both Rainbow teams sounded off their confirmations, and Acevedo's voice crackled in their headsets.

"Griffon 2-6 is cleared for takeoff. Buckle up, boys and girls. We're wheels-up. We'll touch down at destination in approximately 90 minutes."

The plane soon gunned across the small runway and lifted off the pavement, and once Acevedo had leveled the craft at high altitude, Harry opened his laptop. "Intel coming at you now. Check your consoles."

Every seat was fitted with a state-of-the-art tablet directly linked with Harry's laptop and communications with HQ back at base. The operators quickly unsnapped their tablets from their docks, which had already been powered on.

"OPERATION: GREY FALCON" headlined a splash screen of an electronic mission briefing, organized neatly in a clean, easy-to-navigate format.

"Let's do it," Harry announced. "Follow along with me and we'll wrap up the briefing so we can get to planning. Now: the Russian Embassy in Brussels, Belgium is under siege by a well-equipped terrorist element. Assault rifles, hand grenades, radios and headsets. Police even saw an RPG. They've barricaded themselves in the eastern wing of the embassy. Local authorities have the perimeter surrounded, the nearby streets cleared, and have only now succeeded in establishing contact with the hostiles.

No demands were made. The terrorist leader stated they have over forty hostages in custody, and multiple bombs are on-site. They have informed authorities that any attempt to enter the embassy will be met with detonations. To demonstrate the seriousness of their intentions, one of the masked men walked outside, showed perimeter police that he had a bomb strapped to his chest, and detonated it. No officers or civilians were harmed." Harry finally paused and looked around at his team. "It was just to prove a point."

The operators all exchanged glances.

"They're not muckin' about, are they?" Thatcher remarked.

"Exactly." Harry adjusted his glasses. "Belgium has two DSU Intervention units on-site, backed by a local police, but a motion was made to approach Rainbow for help."

"Good," Ash nodded. "Nice when ego can be put aside so we can step in."

Helps that we've worked with Belgium before," came Sledge. "Operation Steel Wind, 1999. A Belgian embassy, ironically."

"Indeed." Harry swiped his screen. As he did, the screens on all the present operators' tablets reflected the movement, bringing up a series of photos. "This is the embassy. Street view." He swiped. "Aerial view, and another." He continued swiping through the images. "Interior, main lobby. Interior, security room. Offices on the first and second floors. Long hallways, lots of doors and windows. Emergency exits on all four sides of the building. Blueprints of the floor plans on final slide."

Nøkk straightened in her seat. "Get me in there," she said quietly. "Depending on their locations and numbers, I can slip in, set charges, neutralize the targets on a coordinated breach with the others."

"It's never that simple," Twitch murmured. She scanned over the blueprints methodically, memorizing layouts of ventilation shafts.

Glaz zoomed out on an aerial view of the surrounding streets. "Not many optimal perches overlooking the east wing," he mused. "That bank across the way, though… that might be a good position for overwatch - top floor window instead of the roof. Lower profile."

Valkyrie clicked her tongue thoughtfully. "What do we know about the hostiles, Six? Name? Nationality, leader?"

"Please, just call me Harry." The man smiled at his laptop screen. "Speak of the devil. DSU just forwarded this to me. Sending it your way. Take a look."

Rook's eyes narrowed. "Estimated ten to fifteen hostiles," he read aloud. "Ski masks and balaclavas. Urban camouflage fatigues. No demands as of yet. No identifying insignias."

"Man who made contact with authorities thought to be Russian," continued Doc. "That's it."

Glaz chuckled. "You know how those Russians can be."

"So we have fuck-all," Sledge grumbled. "Belgium knows we don't negotiate, aye?"

Harry peered at the man over his glasses. "They know."

"More offices on the top floor than the bottom." Ash tapped her finger on the second floor blueprint. "I like a rooftop insertion for Team 1. Look at those corridors. Touré lives for that shit."

Montagne smiled. "I like it, too. Sweep the top floor, move downward." He looked to Sledge. "Team 2 inserts ground level, cleans house, we catch them in the middle no matter what."

"Just watch that crossfire and we'll be good," came Doc. "Lot of variables on the table."

Thatcher shifted in his seat. "Have authorities cut the power yet?"

"Negative," Harry replied. "They're waiting to poke the hornet's nest… for now. Go over the floor plans. Memorize it like innocent lives depend on it."

A chorus of affirmatives answered him, and Harry turned his attention back to his laptop. "Anya, do you copy?"

"Yes, sir."

"Is the situation room ready to go?"

"Everyone is present, Harry. Comms are live and the War Room is ready."

The "War Room" was the nickname for Rainbow's in-house intelligence and communications headquarters. There, a small Crisis Team headed operations behind-the-scenes to assist Rainbow operators with their missions.

"Excellent. Begin recording all comms." The man tilted his mouth microphone and coughed before continuing. "Stating for the record: Director Six here, present for operation."

The voices of the senior members of the Crisis Team soon followed.

"Douglas Lilly, CIA liaison to Rainbow, present for op."

"Vince Vion, Rainbow Chief of Intel. I'm here."

"Kate Harvell, Comms and Logistics Officer. Present for operation."

Harry nodded. "Excellent. Let us begin. Kate, can you get me a line directly to the Belgian DSU commander on-site?"

"Yes, sir." Harry could hear Kate's fingers over the radio as they danced across her keyboard. "One Belgian Special Units commander coming right up, Harry."


	6. Chapter 6: No Demands

**CHAPTER 6: "NO DEMANDS"**

As the Rainbow operators on the plane reviewed the schematics and floor plans of the Russian Embassy in Brussels, Harry peered intently at his laptop screen as he waited for Communications Officer Harvell.

Her voice crackled in his headset soon after. "Patching you through, Harry."

"Thank you, Kate."

A moment later, a man greeted Harry on the other line. "This is Lieutenant Colonel Maes, Belgian Directorate of Special Units."

"Well-met, Lieutenant Colonel. I'm Director Six of Rainbow."

"I've been expecting your call, Director. My superiors have informed me of your organization's interest in our situation."

Harry could detect a hint of apprehension behind the man's words. "We're simply coming to offer a helping hand, Lieutenant Colonel. Rainbow has worked in tandem with Belgium before."

The line was silent for a moment. "When?"

"Belgian Embassy in London. February of 2000."

"Ah. That was your organization?"

"Indeed, Lieutenant Colonel - though, that was before my time."

"You share this information rather freely with me, Director, do you not?"

Harry made sure that his smile conveyed over the line. "Just aiming for a smooth collaboration. We're all on the same side, after all."

"Mm. One moment." Harry could hear Lt. Col. Maes discussing something with one of his men momentarily before returning to the call. "Apologies, Director. We've accessed audio and visual feeds within the embassy thanks to the security company's outside cooperation. We've determined the gunmen inside are speaking Russian."

"You have visuals on the hostiles?"

"Affirmative. They haven't deactivated or destroyed the surveillance cameras within the embassy."

Every Rainbow operator had been patched in to hear the entire conversation through their own headsets, and they all perked up at the man's words. Valkyrie pointed at Harry with wide eyes, and he flashed her a wink. "That is as good as gold, Lieutenant Colonel," Harry said. "Can you patch that through to me? My Comms Officer can provide you with a secure channel."

"Hm. Respectfully, I don't know about that, Director."

Valkyrie bit her lip anxiously, and her fellow operators waited with bated breath.

"I can personally assure you that our channels are as secure as they get. I'd put my career on the line."

"I, however, would not do the same."

Harry maintained a steady demeanor. "I cannot stress enough how much of a blessing it would be to my team. We're gathering intel now, mid-flight. This would be a tremendous help, and as you know, every second counts." He paused. "That said, the choice is yours, Lieutenant Colonel. We're not here to step on your toes."

Lt. Col. Maes sighed on the other end. "I do not wish to hamper your efforts. I truly am simply concerned about security."

"My organization is top-tier in every aspect of warfare," Harry replied. "This includes security and technological advancement. Send a mirror to the uplink so that my operators may see the men they're up against."

"Very well, Director."

Valkyrie pumped a triumphant fist into the air, not taking her eyes off her tablet's screen.

"My thanks, Lieutenant Colonel. How was contact made?"

The Belgian DSU commander grunted his acknowledgment. "Local police received a 101 emergency phone call from someone inside, and their systems were pinged once by a silent alarm activation. My men arrived, established a perimeter and communication with Brussels PD, and we then tried for two hours to make contact with the hostiles - or anyone willing to pick up one of the phones - in the inside. We were unsuccessful."

"Only one silent alarm activation?" Harry asked.

"Our thoughts exactly," replied Maes. "For them to overtake embassy security so quickly speaks to their… efficiency. Now, at the two hour and five minute mark - just under half an hour ago - we received a call from an untraceable cell phone inside the embassy. That was first contact."

"What was said?"

"It was a man calling himself "Tsar.' I can have my officers forward you the recorded call, but an audio scrambler was used to disguise Tsar's voice. It might take us a few hours to get rid of the noise and distortion."

Harry nodded. "My people can make it quicker."

"Good to know. We'll send it your way." Lt. Col. Maes paused to bark orders to his nearby soldiers before returning to the call. "Tsar simply informed us that they have taken 42 hostages, both staff and civilian alike, and that bombs are being worn by him and his men, as well as having been placed at key locations in the building. No demands were made, and we do not yet have a reason for the attack. He then said that he wished to 'show us the weight behind his words.' At that time, a masked man walked out onto the front steps of the embassy, jacket open to reveal a bomb strapped to his chest. In plain view, he triggered the detonation. Didn't say a word. There was no warning."

"Duly noted," muttered Harry.

"Tsar then called us again to say that he hoped his instructions to keep our distance were 'clear.' He informed us that he would be in touch soon."

"Soon?"

"That's all he said.

Twitch was sitting across from Harry, and she flashed him a thumbs-up. "Uplink established," she whispered. "Our Belgian friends are transferring the files now."

"Looks like we're connected," Harry voiced to Maes. "We'll review everything you send. Thank you for your cooperation, Lieutenant Colonel."

"Of course."

"I would like to make a request of you, if I may."

"Yes?"

"Please have DSU uniforms ready for my operators - twelve, in all - with appropriate patches and insignias. We'll send you sizing. My team's identities must be kept hidden from prying eyes and any news media cameras."

"Understood." Lt. Col. Maes sighed. "Be warned: media is all over this. Helicopters, everything."

"That's not optimal. Can you get rid of them? "

"Negative, Director." The DSU commander sighed again. "I can clear immediate airspace, but certain people of important stature want the publicity. After the ISIL bombings in 2016, my superiors feel that it's important that the world sees my country's counter-terrorism capabilities in a more… positive light."

Harry frowned. "Surely there is someone—"

"I don't like it either, Director Six, but it is most assuredly out of my hands. Now, I must get back to things here. My men will pick you up when you reach the airport. We'll see you soon."


	7. Chapter 7: November Sky

**CHAPTER 7: "NOVEMBER SKY"**

Just over an hour later, Rainbow's plane touched down at Brussels Airport. It was the organization's standard practice to use civilian airports when possible rather than military airfields. Men and women dressed in civilian clothing, boarding and departing unmarked aircraft - or, appropriately marked aircraft on occasion - drew less attention than one would suspect.

It was the way that John Clark, Rainbow's founder and original director, had preferred to operate. Since then, the practice had become protocol.

Two grey SUVs and a black sedan with tinted windows were waiting for them, along with three armed men dressed in civilian clothing.

A muscular man in jeans and a polo shirt who was casually leaning against the hood of the sedan straightened and walked to meet Rainbow. He shook Harry's hand. "Director Six, I presume?"

"Yes. And you?"

"You can call me Liam. DSU, Special Reconnaissance. I answer to Lieutenant Colonel Maes. I believe you two have already spoken?"

"As we were en route, yes."

The other men with Liam had already popped the vehicle trunks and quickly assisted Harry's operators in loading their gear. In less than a minute, the small convoy was speeding for a nearby helipad, where a H215 Airbus transport helicopter was waiting, rotors already spinning.

Everyone hastily filed onboard, including Rainbow pilot Lt. Col. Acevedo. Their clothes and hair whipped with the downwash of the rotor wind, and Liam signaled for the pilot to take off.

"The flight from here to the Russian Embassy is only a few minutes - far more preferable to the 30-40 minute drive, given the circumstances." Liam scooped up a briefcase full of classified folders, and handed it to Harry. "Take one and pass them down, please." The man looked at the Rainbow operators in the cargo hold and raised his voice so they could all hear him. "Quick reference docs to familiarize yourselves with - local protocols, ROE, the works."

Harry flipped his folder open. "Our Rules of Engagement tend to differ from those of government forces."

"That's all above my pay grade - but still, good for background, yes?" Liam looked over his shoulder. "Mertens!" he called.

One of Liam's men nodded his understanding. He pulled four large duffle bags from under his seat and the neighboring seat, and slid them one-by-one across the floor of the cargo hold.

"Your DSU uniforms," Liam announced. "All appropriate patches and insignias are present. Uniforms should be labeled as you requested, Director. Balaclavas and masks can be provided if needed."

Harry nodded and fished his hands into the first bag. "One."

Ash took the uniform from him.

"Two."

Sledge was next. Every operator had a previously assigned number for pre-op preparations. This allowed quick distribution of foreign service uniforms - or anything less - without revealing any of the Rainbow operators' names or callsigns… even in the presence of allies.

Everyone dressed quickly, long accustomed to doing so in front of one another with practiced professional courtesy.

Valkyrie rolled up the sleeves of her Multicam ACU to her forearms. "Never wore a Belgian flag before," she remarked quietly.

Rook chuckled. "First time for everything."

Liam steadied himself as the helicopter hit minor turbulence. "As of now, Lieutenant Colonel Maes has taken over operational jurisdiction from Brussels PD, and the perimeter is—" The man stopped suddenly and put a finger to his earpiece. "Say again?"

Ash and Glaz exchanged glances. Harry raised his eyebrows in anticipation.

Liam hastily scooped up a large tablet and patched some wires into a panel on its side. "Tsar has made contact. Relaying it now, live."

Everyone leaned forward in their seats as a video feed crackled to life. A masked man stared into the camera with crystalline blue eyes that were seemingly devoid of emotion.

The masked man looked down at the desk in front of him and shuffled some papers about out of view before leveling his gaze back into the camera. He took a deep breath.

"I want you to listen to me, now. I want you to listen very carefully, because I promise: I will only say this once."

"Running retinal scan," Twitch announced.

Valkyrie nodded. "I'm on voice analysis."

"I am Tsar." The masked man shifted his weight. "My real name is not important, for I will not be here for long."

"Not good," Sledge murmured.

Harry said nothing, but the sinking feeling in his gut was most telling, and rarely did it lie.

"I am one face of many, and we many are one." To everyone's surprise, the speaker removed his ski mask, revealing messy brown hair and a grizzled face. He stared through the camera at them with empty eyes.

"Running facial scan," whispered Twitch.

The light that may have once filled the unknown man's tired eyes long been extinguished, but Harry saw something else in the man's eyes; he could sense firm resolve and a quiet peace. This man had already resigned to his fate. He did not question death.

"We are November Sky." Tsar shifted in his seat, but never took his eyes off the camera. "This is not about money. This is not about politics, or misguided patriotism, or propaganda."

Another gunman, still wearing his mask, stepped briefly on screen and whispered something in Tsar's ear.

The man nodded and waved the messenger off. He straightened in his seat and leered at the camera. "This is about retribution." Tsar paused. "September 3, 2004: Beslan, North Ossetia."

Harry cursed silently, and most of the Rainbow operators present immediately recognized the date.

"We never forgot those who died. Now, we will make sure the world always remembers." Tsar lifted an AK-74 from off camera and slung it over his shoulder. "We will be in touch within the hour."

The video feed was cut, and the screen went dark.

"The Beslan Hostage Crisis." Glaz's face was hard. "Dark days."

Lion clicked his tongue. "That's some deep-seated anger."

"Agreed." Maverick was pulling a balaclava over his head. "We gotta assume these guys don't plan on living through this."

Harry looked to Liam. "The helicopter we asked for?"

"It will be there, Director, and my superiors have cleared the airspace around the embassy."

"Good." Harry sighed and leaned forward in his seat to signal Acevedo. "Amelia, be ready for immediate takeoff for aerial overwatch."

"Yes, sir."

"Everyone get your heads in the game." Harry was already flipping through the floor plans again. "The fact that he unmasked himself for all to see does not bode well."

"November Sky," Valkyrie mused. "Why scramble the audio when he just planned on showing his face anyway?"

"Maybe he didn't plan on it at all," Ash offered. "Maybe he got caught up in the moment."

Thatcher tightened his grip on his shotgun. "Either way, we're comin' for him."


	8. Chapter 8: Look Sharp

**CHAPTER 8: "LOOK ****SHARP"**

Rain had begun to fall back at Rainbow HQ, much to the dismay of the unit's recruits, who were scheduled for a 10 mile endurance run in the countryside that ultimately culminated into a breach and clear course at a makeshift killhouse in the Hereford countryside.

Finka and Kapkan hurried down the halls to join their comrades at the situation room.

"Who's taking the recruits for their run?" Lera asked.

"Capitão and Mozzie."

"Sucks for them."

"Indeed." Kapkan chanced a discreet glance at the woman walking beside him. "How are you feeling?"

"Don't."

The man grunted his acknowledgment. He didn't take Finka's response personally - in fact, it comforted him to see her icy demeanor still intact.

The pair rounded a final turn and neared the doors to the War Room.

"Sorry," Lera mumbled. "I just—"

"Do not worry. Let us focus on what's to come."

"Mm."

The pair walked briskly for the situation room entrance, and Finka swiped a keycard. The automatic doors parted for her. She stepped in, Kapkan repeated the process, and soon the two were welcomed inside. The room was already bustling with activity. Intel analysts were rushing about, talking swiftly on headsets and hurrying to fulfill tasks given to them by Intelligence Chief Vince Vion.

Three of the four walls were lined with screens and monitors of all sorts. The fourth wall, at the head of the situation room, was one large display that served as the central hub. It could project multiple venues of data, host 3D holograms of virtually any schematic inputted into the computer, display as many simultaneous video feeds or visual mediums as needed, and more.

An organization like Rainbow needed state-of-the-art technology to ever hope for success as a Fast Response agency.

Vince began rolling up the sleeves of his white collar business shirt. "I want the reporting media on the left side of the Hub. Matt, what's Belgium's largest news station?"

"Belga," a man replied.

"Put Belga front and center. Mute all feeds except theirs."

"Sir." The junior analyst put two fingers to his computer screen, minimized the live video report of the Belga News Agency, and swiped it left. The feed appeared instantly on the Hub's screen.

Douglas Lilly, Rainbow's CIA liaison, was on the phone near one of the coffee pots. He was talking quickly to his superiors with one hand cupped over an ear to better hear them, and he flashed Finka and Kapkan a nod in greeting.

The pair snaked their way to a cluster of large U-shaped desks with glass surfaces and multiple monitors. The surface of the desks served as digital tablets for all-purpose use, and floor plans of the Russian Embassy in Brussels were already on display.

A shockingly detailed three-dimensional hologram of the embassy was floating above a projection pedestal at the center of the work station. Dokkaebi and Maestro were already waiting.

"What do we have?" Kapkan asked.

"Potential shit-show." Maestro swiped at the screen. "Then again, that's why we get paid the big bucks, isn't it?"

Dokkaebi looked up. "Kate?"

"Connected," answered Kate Harvell from her desk. "Comms are green."

Dokkaebi nodded and put on a headset. "Guardian One is online, testing comms with team leaders. How copy?"

"Six Actual copies," came Harry's voice over the radio.

"Rainbow One-One copies," followed Ash.

"Two-One here. I've got you," Sledge finished.

"Affirmative." Dokkaebi scooted her rolling chair over so that Finka could take the empty seat beside her. "Guardian is reviewing mission site. We'll be in touch soon."

"Understood," replied Harry, "but make it quick. We're on-site in ten minutes."

It was virtually impossible to formulate a safe, foolproof plan to tackle such a mission on such short notice… but Rainbow was the best of the best, and former Director Aurelia Arnot had implemented her "Guardian Protocol" after the Ceuta incident a couple years prior.

During a battle, two pairs of eyes were always favored over one. This simple principle birthed the Guardian Protocol, which was the practice of having a third Rainbow team in place to act as another set of eyes and skills to further assist the teams on-site in completing their objectives.

While designated Rainbow operators were en route to a mission - in this case, Ash and Sledge's teams - Dokkaebi and her squad were tasked with overwatch.

Finka and Kapkan quickly got themselves sorted, and soon they joined Dokkaebi and Maestro in quickly assessing all factors of the operation at hand. They hastily reviewed and discussed the floor plan, marking key points of interest and concerns for their colleagues across the English Channel.

The more highly trained personnel there was to analyze a mission site, the less of a chance there was for key factors to be overlooked.

That was, at least, the idea. It was up to Finka and the others now to be there for their companions.

* * *

_OUTSIDE THE RUSSIAN EMBASSY_

_AVENUE DE FRÉ 66, 1180_

_UCCLE, BRUSSELS - BELGIUM_

The transport helicopter touched down in the street near the Russian Embassy. Liam and his Belgian DSU comrades exited, and Harry and his operators followed quickly.

Crowds had already gathered, and police were forcing a few overly-curious onlookers back behind caution tape that had been set up around the entirety of the embassy, a healthy distance from its walls.

The Rainbow operators' identities were hidden behind the masks and multicam uniforms they wore, complete with Belgian flags and DSU patches. The unknown men and women walked briskly for the site's makeshift HQ - in this case, a large trailer next to two Police Intervention armored trucks.

Dokkaebi voice was suddenly in their headphones. "Six Actual, this is Guardian Two. We've highlighted all access points, and a few areas of concern - particularly a T-intersection in a large open area on the second floor. Forwarding now."

"Understood," Harry answered. "Send it. Look sharp, everyone. We're on the clock."


	9. Chapter 9: Safeties Off

**CHAPTER 9: "SAFETIES OFF"**

Introductions were quick. Harry shook hands with Lieutenant Colonel Maes of the DSU before introducing him to Ash and Sledge.

Glaz wasted no time in crossing the street to the neighboring bank to the southeast, informing his colleagues that he would notify them when he was in position. He was escorted by two police officers, and the bank manager was thankfully quick to understand and comply.

The Rainbow operators circled the hood of a police cruiser, where blueprints of the embassy had been spread out.

Ash and Sledge headed the meeting while Harry, Lt. Col. Maes, Liam, and other DSU officers looked on.

"Acevedo is already up in the air," Ash murmured. "She said she's going to maintain a good height to remain out of sight of windows."

"We haven't had eyes on any tangos since we arrived," Maes informed. "They've taken care to stay out of sight and away from windows."

Nøkk nudged Ash. "I can get in through the rooftop access and hide in the shadows until needed."

"We'll drone it and go from there," Sledge answered. "A solo element could be useful."

Liam folded his arms. "Our men can provide cover for your insertion." He gestured over his shoulder. "We have enough personnel to have a shooter with eyes on every window."

Ash nodded. "Will be nice to have those windows out of the equation. You copy that, Glaz?"

"_Da. _Setting up on the third floor of the bank. The southeast corner of the embassy is straight in from my perch, 45 degree angle. Clear line of sight of both the north and east walls."

"Copy. Stand by." Ash adjusted the balaclava she wore, and cast an annoyed glance over her shoulder at the crowds of onlookers and news cameras. "We're good to go. Be sneaky with those drones, determine the hostages' positions, keep an eye out for bombs. Ping any traps for Guardian so they can highlight them on the operational map."

Everyone conducted a final gear check. Glaz kept a steady eye on things through his scope from across the street to the southeast. Nøkk adjusted the veil she wore before going dark and stealthily moving towards the embassy through trees and foliage. Maverick covered her.

The remaining operators deployed their drones, taking positions around the exterior of the embassy. Twitch was the only one who sent her drone inside, and she stared intently at her screen as she navigated the embassy lobby. "Lobby's clear."

"Nothing on thermal," Glaz murmured.

Lion positioned his RC drone outside a parking garage entrance before unzipping his backpack and pulling out his aerial surveillance drone with a grunt. He set it on the grass, activated it with the push of a button, and the drone hummed to life before hovering in place inches above the ground.

"All units, EE-ONE-D is going up for surveillance." Lion's declaration was both an informative statement and a warning. "Griffon Two-Six, you copy?"

"Affirmative," came Acevedo from her helicopter above the embassy. "Thanks for the heads-up. Highlighted on my radar. I'll steer clear."

Sledge hoisted his assault rifle and checked the mag a final time before slapping it back into the magwell. "Safeties off. Show's about to start on your go, Ash."

"Safeties off," Ash echoed. "Roger that. Command, stand by for initiation."

Inside the embassy, Yegor Federov sat in a luxurious leather chair in the Ambassador's Office. His AK-74 leaned idly against the desk.

He stared at the 5-kopek nickel coin pinched between his fingers before closing his eyes. This was the end of his road. His men didn't know it yet, but Yegor had led them to their mission with no intention of ever living through it.

The man looked at the ski mask that he had taken off while filming the video sent to the police. He hoped Matvei would call soon - Yegor wanted one last conversation with his brother before going through with the mission.

Someone tapped on the door lightly. A masked man wearing body armor and carrying a Bizon submachine gun soon entered. "Sir. Hostages are under control, but they're getting restless. One was particularly troublesome."

Yegor looked up. "Was?"

"Sergei knocked him out and isolated him." The man shifted on his feet. "Didn't kill him."

Yegor nodded. "Fine. Are the others in position, Petr?"

"Yes, sir. They're waiting for the order." Petr scratched at his jaw beneath his mask. "That helicopter that just landed has more DSU. Around 15, 20. Alba said there's another helo circling above us, pretty high up. Also, one of their people just sent a drone of some sort up into the air, and it's hovering above the embassy."

"A drone?" Yegor asked. "Is it armed?"

"Don't know, sir, but I have to assume it is. They'll probably send robots or something first. What do you want us to do?"

"The time draws near. Get back to your post. Check the defenses at rooftop and the basement and keep the hostages in line." Yegor stood. "Good work, Petr."

The masked henchman stepped out of the Ambassador's Office, and Yegor's phone vibrated softly as the door shut. He saw the Caller ID and took a deep breath before answering. "_Алло."_

"Yegor. Are things in place?"

"They are."

The line was quiet for a long moment. "Well done, little brother. Tania would be proud of you."

Yegor eyed his rifle. "I miss her, Matvei," he whispered.

"I do too."

More silence ensued, and the gravity of what was to come began to weigh on the two brothers. Yegor felt like his heart was an anchor pulling him into the earth, and his brother's unspoken silence told him that Matvei was feeling the same.

"I'm sorry I'm not there with you," Matvei murmured. "You're doing us all a great service. You'll be remembered forever."

"We both will," said Yegor softly. He bowed his head. "For Tania. For our friends. I'll see you on the other side, Matty."

"Soon. Good-bye, Yegor."

The line clicked dead. Yegor scooped up his rifle and wondered if this was where most people would have shed a tear or two.

He had stopped crying long ago.

Yegor Federov scooped up his radio. "Five minutes," he called. "Get the hostages into the front lobby."

The man did not see the RSD Model 1 Shock Drone watching him silently from a floor-level ventilation opening in the shadows of two tall filing cabinets.


	10. Chapter 10: Good Press

**CHAPTER 10: "GOOD PRESS"**

Emanuelle "Twitch" Pichon watched her drone screen intently. "Did you all hear that?"

"Golden opportunity," came Thatcher. "All friendlies in one place? Say no more."

Rook let a huge satchel slide off his shoulder and fall to the street with a hefty thud. "Pass those plates around."

Everyone obeyed and hastily strapped on the Rhino heavy-grade body armor vests.

Nøkk finished first, and she approached Ash. "Request green light for rooftop entry. Solo."

Even though she was already nodding her approval, Ash still looked to Sledge. The man's nod echoed her own. She adjusted the balaclava she wore and touched a finger to her earpiece, habitually checking the reception. "All elements: Nøkk is proceeding solo, rooftop. Stack up for insertion on northeast corner. Standby and await further orders."

A chorus of affirmatives responded, and Ash did a final mag check on her assault rifle before walking over to Harry. "Harry, our cheerleaders are going to make things difficult."

Harry looked up at the news helicopters circling above, and the media vans and their crews dispersed throughout the gathering crowds on the opposing sidewalks. "I'll see what I can do. Go."

Ash turned to her teammates and raised a gloved hand, twirling a finger in circles. "Let's move. Squad One, on me."

"Squad Two, stay close," came Sledge, making sure his hammer was fastened securely. "Keep it tight. Eyes open."

As the Rainbow teams rushed across the street, Harry thumbed his nose against the cold and gestured to Lt. Col. Maes. "Might I have a quick word?"

The Belgian commander's jaw clenched, but he nodded. "What is it?"

Harry took care to look strong and confident without appearing overbearing and aggressive. He folded his arms and took a few offbeat steps away from the makeshift command post, and Lt. Col. Maes followed.

When they were out of earshot of Maes's men, Harry squared himself at the embassy, watching his operators rush across the street towards the northwest entrance, near where the hostages were being held inside. Belgian DSU operatives covered their advance with an impressive amount of scopes and sights, all trained on the building as Rainbow moved forward.

Harry inhaled the cold air mightily. "The media presence needs to be gone immediately, Lieutenant Colonel."

"As I stated before, my—"

"-superiors want to put on a show for the public to make themselves look good. I remember." Harry faced Maes. "Such vanity puts the lives of our operatives and the innocents inside at risk."

"I hear you, Director Six."

"It's irresponsible, and I assure you that I will order my people to pack it up and leave before I order an assault under such circumstances. All the insurgents inside need is a smart phone to access a live news feed. They could be watching me speak to you right now."

"I'm aware."

Harry stepped closer to stand toe-to-toe with the DSU commander, and he stared at him with icy eyes despite being a head shorter. "This is all fucking unacceptable. Fix it, or we walk, and I will do so with a clear conscience, Lieutenant Colonel. There are innocent lives at stake here, and I will not have them all jeopardized by someone's desire to extract good press."

If Lt. Col. Maes was shaken, he did not show it. The man rubbed his chin. "I will do what I can."

"Thank you. I just want to help, but politics has no place at this table." Harry softened his stance and turned his attention back to the embassy. "If your people are so concerned about redeeming their reputation, tell them that refusing my request will not earn them any favor with my superiors. That includes many key officials at both the UN and NATO."

"You've made your point, Director. Allow me to make a call."

Lt. Col. Maes stalked off with his cell phone in hand. Harry rubbed his hands together briskly before un-muting his mic, and he brought his tablet up to his face so it covered his mouth and chin. It was best to be safe and hide his words from any would-be spies or onlookers. "All units, this is Six Actual. Our Belgian friends are seeing about getting rid of the media presence. Is everyone in place?"

"One-One confirms: ready to move," came Ash.

Sledge's voice followed. "Two-One confirms: we're good to go."

Harry nodded. "Wait to breach on my command. I leave the rest to you."

"Yes, sir."

"We've got this, Harry."

Ash, Montagne, Twitch, Thatcher, Nøkk, and Maverick were stacked around the corner near the embassy's side entrance, hugging the wall with their eyes and weapons pointed in all directions. Sledge, Valkyrie, Lion, Rook, and Doc were paces behind them.

"Lot of fucking windows." Ash was crouched, and she shifted her weight to her other knee. "Glaz, how we lookin'?"

"Clear," Glaz answered from afar. "Still nothing."

"Roger." Ash craned her neck to look back over her shoulder. "Twitch, did our tango leave that office yet?"

Twitch's eyes were on the screen at her wrist. "Negative. Not sure what he's waiting for, but I think we can confirm he's the bossman."

"Agreed. Keep your eyes on him." The woman sighed and watched the steps ahead leading to an open porch, where two double doors awaited. "Nøkk, I like you for a third element."

The veiled woman nodded her acknowledgment.

Ash tugged on her balaclava again, wishing she didn't have to wear it. "Guardian, this is Ash. Any points of insertion as an alternative to rooftop access? Over."

"Affirmative," Finka answered, her voice punctuated by the subtle crackling of radio static.

"Large balcony on the third floor, northside. Leads to a hallway and offices. Be advised, curtain windows lining that wall near the entrance. Floor to ceiling. Would recommend rooftop access instead. Nearest fire escape back behind you around the southwest corner of the building, over."

"Copy that. Ash, out." Ash turned to Nøkk. "You're up. Get to the rooftop."

"Roger that." Nøkk scurried west, keeping low and staying close to the building. No matter what cameras might have been watching, none of them would catch her on their feed.

She was finally being utilized as a solo element on-mission, and as she tightened her grip on her FMG-9 submachine gun, she smiled beneath her veil.

Nøkk would not have had it any other way.


	11. Chapter 11: Going Dark

**CHAPTER 11: "GOING DARK"**

Valkyrie was standing and leaning into the embassy wall behind Montagne, who already had his shield ready. "Guardian, this is Valkyrie. You got me? Over."

"Guardian Actual copies," came Kate Harvell.

"Can you patch the embassy surveillance cams to my feed, ASAP?"

"Give me twenty seconds."

"Roger." Valkyrie crouched in Montagne's shadow. "I'm on cams," she announced. "Looks like they've already moved the hostages into the front lobby."

"Bossman still hasn't left that office," said Twitch. "He's Llooking distressed. Pacing around, muttering some shit I can't make out."

Ash looked across the street to the HQ tent, where Harry was standing with Lt. Col. Maes and other members of the DSU. "Whatever is about to go down in that lobby isn't good. That DSU commander better hurry the fuck up."

"I've got eyes on the lobby." Valkyrie's fingers moved quickly on her tablet screen. She expanded the camera feed to the embassy lobby and minimized multiple other surveillance feeds on the first and second floors. "Six Actual, recommend action soon."

"What do you see?"

"I have at least ten hostiles onscreen in the lobby. Three dozen hostages, maybe more. Please be advised: don't know how much time we have. Tangos look impatient. Over."

"Understood," came Harry. "Sit tight. Six, out."

The Rainbow operators shifted uncomfortably in their positions, and Ash muttered her discontent with the Belgian politics in play.

Nøkk was already on the roof, and she detached her rappelling harness before letting it fall at her feet. She jogged for the rooftop emergency access stairwell, her steps light upon the concrete, and deactivated her HEL cloaking device to conserve more battery for maneuvers once she was inside.

She slowed to a stop near the heavy door. Perhaps someone had left it unlocked? The woman tried to ease it open.

No such luck, but worth the try.

"I'm at the rooftop access - requesting permission for soft breach."

"Negative," said Ash. "Be advised, Teams 1 and 2 still holding position as ordered. Repeat, we are not cleared for breach."

Everyone's earpieces crackled. "All elements, this is Six Actual. Go to secure channel Alpha."

All Rainbow members present, including Acevedo up in her helicopter, switched radio channels immediately.

Harry's voice was low. "Listen up: I still haven't heard anything about the media withdrawing from the scene. I don't know if they will. Now, we've already been cleared to take action. There's a lot of scared people inside that embassy, and we don't know how much time they have left. Copy that?"

Ash and Sledge confirmed.

"Nøkk, you're up," continued Harry. "See if you can get down to their leader and subdue him. From what I can tell, the men in the lobby are waiting for his orders. If you can get to him and cut him off from the others, that might buy time for our hostages. Copy?"

"Message received," Nøkk replied.

"Ash, hold your team at current position." They all heard Harry cough over the radio. "Sorry. Sledge, take Team Two around the corner to the east side of the building and await orders."

"Roger that," Sledge responded. He, Valkyrie, Lion, Rook, and Doc moved swiftly to comply.

"I want to avoid a hard breach into the lobby if possible. Too many variables." Harry paused. "If it comes to it, be ready. You all know what to do. I leave the rest to you. Six, out."

Nøkk enjoyed lockpicking. There was something therapeutic about it for her, and she practiced quite often on-base. The skill was occasionally invaluable in the field, and as she worked two picks together into the lock of the rooftop access door, the woman smiled.

Bandit was always giving her shit about picking locks as a hobby. She looked forward to returning to base and rubbing this one in his face.

"One thing at a time," she murmured. Seconds later, the final two pins of the lock clicked aside, and Nøkk readied her suppressed SMG before easing the door open.

"I'm inside," she whispered.

"Nøkk, you've got a three-story stairwell," came Kate Harvell, "and it winds downward to a basement level. Target tango is on the second floor. We'll keep you updated."

"Copy that. Thanks, Guardian."

"Bossman hasn't moved," Twitch informed. "He's set his weapon down. Looks like he's texting someone."

"Moving." Nøkk gently closed the door behind her. "Please keep radio chatter to a minimum. I'll keep you posted. Going dark."

The woman prowled down the stairwell, gun ready and senses sharp. She was careful to keep her steps light upon the concrete stairs, and she reached the second floor without incident.

Nøkk knelt to the second story access and produced a fiber-optic snake cam from her pack. She slipped the cable carefully under the door and checked the lens to scope out the other side.

The coast was clear. Through the camera, she saw open cubicles and offices spread out across the room beyond the closed door. Dozens of potential hiding places for hostiles, but they were all likely down on the first floor, in the lobby as ordered.

Her drone could not fit under the doorway, so Nøkk cracked the door open just enough to set her drone down on the floor inside before closing it again.

"Drone out." She knelt on one knee and watched her tablet's screen as she steered it through the second floor offices of the embassy. "Workspaces are deserted. Computers are still on. Signs of struggle here and there. No bodies, thankfully. No sign of hostiles."

"Copy that," Ash responded.

Satisfied that the large room beyond the door was clear, Nøkk stowed her tablet, stood, and readied her weapon. "Entering second floor offices. Activating HEL."


	12. Chapter 12: Phantom

**CHAPTER 12: "PHANTOM"**

Sunlight streamed through the windows and partially-open blinds, casting a surreal glow across the second floor offices. Displaced papers, spilled coffee, a toppled office chair, and other disturbances were the only hints that something was amiss.

Nøkk knew she didn't have much time, and she crept through the cubicles and small hallways, keeping low and sweeping every corner carefully.

She glanced down at the HUD on her wrist display. Guardian had pinged the room that the terrorist leader - or "Bossman," as Twitch had named him - and it glowed red on the display's small minimap.

Twenty meters separated Nøkk from the terrorist leader.

Bossman could give the order to execute every hostage in the lobby without ever getting up from the chair he sat in.

He could be giving the order now.

Nøkk moved swiftly. Her strong legs helped her stay low to the ground as she did, absorbing the impact of each step enough to make her nearly silent.

She was in her element. This was where she really shined - operating alone allowed her to act as the shadow she preferred to be.

The woman halted at the end of a cluster of open floor offices. Desks, monitors and chairs were neatly placed throughout the large room, but no cubicles or dividers separated them.

Just ahead, a large executive office stretched along the far wall. where Nøkk knew Bossman was currently hiding behind closed doors. The blinds that were drawn across the large windows were partially open, and the light on inside illuminated the shadow of a man pacing about.

Nøkk checked her six before crouching behind a nearby desk, safely out of view of any would-be patrols, and deactivated her HEL cloak. "Ten meters to target," she whispered. "Eyes on the office. He's isolated. Awaiting orders, over."

"Copy," Ash answered over the radio. "Move to subdue. If we have their leader in custody, we might be able to control the narrative here."

"Received. Stand by." As Nøkk inched towards the closed door, she knew her fellow operators would be waiting with bated breath… failure here could mean a forced hot breach down in the lobby.

Nobody wanted that.

She crept forward. The door was a pace away now, and Nøkk shouldered her SMG, opting for the lighter weight of her suppressed Desert Eagle.

She dialed in her focus and took a deep breath.

Yegor Federov sat at the desk in the executive office with his hands clasped together. He bowed his head reverently, staring at the grains of wood on the desktop.

He and Matvei had spent so much of their adult lives implementing what was about to happen. It seemed like only yesterday that he had hugged his brother in front of the Beslan Memorial Statue in St. Petersburg a month after their high school graduation, and the two had made their pact.

The pact.

Yegor let out a whoosh of air. So many years had all come down to this. It was time for the world to know their mission.

That meant it was time for his life to end.

The man took out his wallet and pulled out a weathered photo of a little girl. Dark hair, pretty brown eyes, cute smile. Yegor hadn't seen his daughter in years, and his attempts at reaching out to her mother over the last few months had all ended in vain.

_"Ya lyublyu tebya,_ Tania." Yegor kissed the photo and set it down in front of him on the table. "Forgive me for what I must do."

The man stood slowly. His legs felt numb, and his heartbeat quickened at what was to come. He eyed his rifle before kneeling to lift his backpack up onto the table, where the detonator was located.

A soft clicking noise behind him made Yegor jump in surprise. He turned swiftly to see the office door burst open, and a veiled figure dressed in tactical gear glided for him like a phantom.

Yegor's heart leapt up into his mouth. He knew he couldn't reach his rifle in time.

His hand shot to the knife sheathed at his waist.

Something snapped in the air. Yegor yelped in pain when a dart from Twitch's shock drone seared into his leg, and a burst of electricity washed over him like a wave. He slumped backward across the desk.

The man instinctively tried to shout, but the intruder pressed the handgun's silencer to Yegor's neck, and he coughed against the impact. A gloved hand smothered his mouth.

"Do not shout. Do not move. Do you understand?"

Yegor's eyes widened in surprise. A woman?

"Blink if you understand."

Yegor did. He then winced as Nøkk pressed her handgun even harder against him.

"You move, I shoot you," she whispered. "Do not fucking move. I won't say it again." The woman reached down to Yegor's waist and stripped him of his knife, and in another quick motion she undid the safety clasp of his holster and lifted his handgun from it. She ejected the magazine, pulled the slide back to empty the chamber, and tossed the firearm away once the remaining bullet fell to the floor.

"All units be advised, HVT is in custody. Good shot, Twitch."

_"Merci."_

"Doesn't look like his comrades know anything is happening," came Sledge. "Let's keep it that way."

Nøkk released her hold on Yegor. "Twitch, watch him for me?"

"Got you covered."

Nøkk scooped up the man's assault rifle and disarmed it like she had done with his handgun. She seized his radio from the pouch on the front of his tactical vest before holstering her handgun and drawing her SMG, which she pointed at Yegor. "Stay."

The man spat at her grudgingly, but said nothing.

Nøkk strolled to the other end of the office and flicked off the lights before leaning against the wall in the shadows. She kept her FMG-9 steadied at Yegor with one hand, and cupped the other hand around her mouth to muffle her speech while she talked.

Yegor watched her, not daring to move. The veiled woman looked like a damned ghost.

After a moment, the woman straightened and approached him, never idling the barrel of her weapon away from his chest.

She held up his radio. "You're going to help me, now," she murmured in a deathly whisper, "and if you do not, I will cause you great pain."


	13. Chapter 13: Threats

**CHAPTER 13: "THREATS"**

DSU Lieutenant Colonel Maes looked at Harry sternly. "That sounds risky, Director Six."

"Risk is what our work revolves around, is it not?"

"I don't like it." Maes folded his arms and cast a look around him at the gathered police and DSU counter-terrorist units. "We have scores of men. We could breach from all sides. You have your drones, yes?"

"Lieutenant Colonel, I don't think—"

"We get eyes on the lobby. We cut power. Flood the lobby with tear gas, move in and drop any hostiles that resist."

"That is our last-ditch option," Harry replied, shaking his head. "Your government called us because they wanted other options. That's what we're giving them."

Maes shrugged. "Fine. As long as we get those people out of there safe and sound, Director, I'll be happy. I just hope your man inside knows what he's doing."

Harry didn't bother informing Maes that Nøkk was, in fact, a woman. "We do this carefully, sir, and all will be well. I have the utmost confidence in my operatives."

Maes put a hand to his headset. "Are they?" he said aloud, turning from Harry and looking up to the sky. The news helicopters up above had begun to ease off location. "Excellent. Get those fucking news vans out of here, too. If anyone has a problem, tell them it's for their safety." Maes looked to Harry and jabbed a thumb up to the sky. "Your request has been heeded. Media choppers have been ordered to clear the airspace, and I've been given the go-ahead to push back the media presence on the ground."

"Good to hear. Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel."

Lt. Col. Maes barked some orders in Dutch to his men. Some adjusted their positions. Others broke off from the firing line to assist the police in pushing back the civilian onlookers and news crews. "I must say, Director, I am disappointed that my superiors take your recommendations more seriously than they take mine."

Harry frowned. "Don't take it personally. My organization has some pull on the international theater. That's all."

"If you say so." Maes grinned wryly. "Let us hope the rest of the day goes as smoothly."

Nøkk watched Yegor carefully. "Is everyone in place?" she asked over the radio.

"Team One is stacked up and ready to move," came Ash.

"Team Two is ready," Sledge answered. "Awaiting your mark."

"Understood." Nøkk angled her weapon precariously at Yegor's face. "Valkyrie, you able to work with the frequency I gave you?"

"Yup. Almost done routing the feed to HQ. We'll have ears on the tangos' radio comms in ten seconds."

"Copy that. Get ready. Out." Nøkk tilted her veiled head at the man before her. "English?"

Yegor glared at her. "Fuck you."

Nøkk strode forward, drew her combat knife, and flicked it to the man's ear. He froze when she touched the sharp edge to the top of his outer ear, where it joined with the side of his head.

"Listen to me very carefully," the woman whispered. "Think of all the ugly, awful things I could do to you with this knife."

"I'm ready to die," Yegor spat. "I'm not afraid of you."

Nøkk stared at him for a long, silent moment with such intensity that the man finally looked away from her, unwilling to meet her stare.

"Think," she continued, "of the parts of you I could saw off. Of the places I could wedge a blade in. Under. Between. And then, I want you to think of your family."

Yegor's gaze flashed upward. "What?"

"Sophie," Twitch's voice added hastily in Nøkk's ear. "He has a daughter named Sophie."

Nøkk leered at the man. "Sophie is your daughter, yes?"

Yegor cocked his head. "What the fuck did you just say to me?"

Nøkk slammed the butt of her weapon into his face. The impact broke his nose, and blood spattered up and into the air as his head whipped back. She seized him by the collar and mercilessly forced his head upright again. "You are going to do exactly as I say, and you have my word: your daughter will not be harmed."

Yegor spat blood. He was dazed, but he straightened where he sat. "If my men don't hear from me soon, it'll be too late for you." He grinned. "Too late for both of us."

"It's a good thing your men are going to hear from you then." Nøkk held up Yegor's radio and gently waved it back and forth. "You are going to instruct your men to release the hostages."

The man scoffed at her. "They'd never buy that. They would know something is wrong. I would never give that order."

Nøkk brought the point of her knife up under Yegor's jaw. "Then what order can you give?"

Yegor stared up at her. "I… you can't possibly ask me to—"

"Sophie depends on you, now. Your actions today will determine her fate."

Yegor's face was hauntingly vacant, seemingly unaffected by the woman's threat.

"You have no idea who I work for," Nøkk continued. "Now stop wasting my time and work with me here. I can get you a deal when this is all over."

"Better kill me." The man's eyes were on fire with a light that Nøkk knew well. "I'll cut your fucking throat if you so much as—"

His words were cut off by a savage undercut to his ribs. As Yegor doubled over in pain, Nøkk gripped his head and jolted her knee upward. The impact caught him on the chin, and the man cried out in pain as she shoved him back to the desk.

She pressed her knife to his throat and hovered over him menacingly. "If you want your daughter to stay alive," she hissed, "cooperate."

Yegor spat more blood, and he chuckled. "You don't realize you've already lost." He wiped more blood from his nose and stared up at her.

He grinned. Nøkk realized something was wrong.

"Sophie is already gone," the man uttered, his voice ragged. "We lost her to cancer. And now, you try to leverage my dead daughter against me?"

Yegor Federov leapt up and charged Nøkk with the last of his strength. He barreled into her with such force that she reeled backwards and fell.

He fell with her, his heavy frame crushing her to the ground. Nøkk had speared her handgun's suppressor into his gut and pulled the trigger.

The woman rolled the man's dead weight off with a grunt and pressed herself up. "All elements," she managed breathlessly, "Bossman is down. Repeat: Tsar is KIA."


	14. Chapter 14: Shots Fired

**CHAPTER 14: "SHOTS FIRED"**

Glaz had repositioned to the second floor of the bank across the street, in one of the loan offices. After evacuating the bank hours earlier, DSU sharpshooters had taken positions on the rooftop above.

Timur had his scope fixed on the front lobby. The blinds and shutters had been drawn and closed across the large floor-to-ceiling windows.

A lesser-experienced shooter would have been frustrated. Glaz, however, was used to zero visibility situations. It was all about being in the right place at the right time.

A veteran's sixth sense went a long way, too. Coupled with experience and the ability to anticipate situational flow, it was as much a part of the job as his rifle.

With the help of Dokkaebi and Finka back at HQ, Valkyrie had stealthily tapped into the terrorist's radio comms… and it had sounded like Nøkk's efforts were paying off.

Things had gone well until Nøkk's urgent transmission informing them all that Tsar was KIA. With the hostile leader eliminated, the operation entered murky waters.

It was highly likely that Tsar's men would execute the hostages if they learned their leader had been killed.

The situation was delicate.

"All units," came Ash, "get ready to move. Nøkk, confirm: Bossman is down?"

"Affirmative. I had no choice." She was whispering into her radio. "I do not think any hostiles have been alerted. I hid the body and am holding position for further orders."

"Roger. Valkyrie, talk to me."

"I've still got eyes on the lobby. Tangos haven't moved, but two of them near the elevators are getting agitated. I think they're worried about their boss. Too far away for audio."

Glaz got to his feet with a grunt and hoisted his OTs-03 sniper rifle. "This is Glaz. Relocating to ground level to provide cover for breach."

"Copy that. Hurry. We don't have much time."

"Understood." Glaz was already out in the bank's main hallway. He ran for the emergency stairwell, his footsteps echoing off the tile and empty walls. The man jogged down the stairs with astonishing speed and burst through the doors into the first floor offices. The sniper zig-zagged through cubicles and desks before finally reaching the double doors leading into the bank lobby.

A group of bank security guards in the middle of the marble-floored lobby jumped in alarm as Glaz barreled in through the entrance, his momentum flinging the doors open.

He slowed his pace as he jogged by them. "Might want to get to your posts," he called, turning to them while backpedaling on his heels towards the bank's front doors. "It's about to get hot."

One of the officers, a blonde woman crouched over an open duffel bag, nodded. The three men standing around her watched Glaz before returning their gazes down to the clustered gear bags on the floor.

Glaz continued jogging for the front doors, but he slowed his pace. Frowned.

Something was off.

He turned around.

The woman and two of the other officers were already running to the emergency stairwell, from where Glaz had come; the last officer was pulling on a large, heavy-grade flak jacket over his uniform, and kneeling to scoop up a PKM light machine gun with a short, compact barrel.

Glaz's eyes widened. "_Suka."_

The armored man turned with his LMG leveled.

Glaz dove behind one of the tall marble columns in the lobby just as the machine gun rattled off its rounds. A steady stream of gunfire erupted in a deafening cadence, reverberating off the walls of the bank lobby.

"Shots fired!" Glaz called into the radio urgently. "First floor, bank lobby. New hostile element. I repeat: new hostile element engaged. Military armament. Three other tangos unaccounted for, dressed as bank security. Repeat: hostiles were in security uniforms. Over."

Clouds of dust and chunks of marble misted in the air around him.

Glaz flipped his hybrid rifle sight to a close-quarters red dot and pressed himself to the pillar. "Need backup," he hissed. "Be advised: hostiles are wearing heavy military-grade body armor. Over."

The fire stopped. "It's too late!" the man in the flak-jacket shouted. His English was weighed by a heavy Russian accent. "Prepare yourself!"

The pin popping on one of Glaz's smoke grenades served as his reply, and he rolled it around the corner. Smoke hissed and billowed out into the lobby.

The terrorist let out a carefree laugh and resumed fire. He waved the barrel of his weapon wildly, his machine gun spitting fire and lead into the smoke around him.

Glaz answered with a single shot that pierced the cloud and slammed into the man's face.

The gunfire stopped, and the terrorist collapsed to the floor with a heavy thud.

"Jesus Christ," Ash murmured. "Harry, you want to put DSU on the bank to reinforce Glaz?"

"We're already on it. Take care of the hostages."

"Roger. We're moving." The woman turned to look at her team stacked up behind her. "Erik, break off and assist Glaz."

"Yup." Maverick wasted no time. He sprinted across the street for the bank with impressive speed, beelining for the front entrance. "We're coming, Glaz," he assured over the radio. "Sit tight."

Ash tilted her R4-C and toggled the laser sight. "All units: going loud. Prepare to breach the objective."

Sledge stood. "We'll take the objective from the east. I'll get two shooters on the windows. Rest of us will storm it."

Ash nodded. "Ten-Four. Holler when you're ready. Move it."

In no time, Sledge and his team had posted on the east side of the embassy front lobby - Lion and Rook had roped up and held position above two large windows, while Sledge, Valkyrie and Doc stacked up on the side door.

Around the corner on the south side of the embassy, Ash, Twitch, Montagne, and Thatcher stacked up on either side of the main front entrance.

Ash checked her watch. "Lion: on my mark, trigger your drone. Thatcher will deploy his EMP grenades. Team 1 will breach. Montagne will take point to draw fire. Team 2 will breach four seconds after we enter. Everyone copy?"

Hurried replies answered her, and Ash began her countdown.


	15. Chapter 15: Flashing Lights

**CHAPTER 15: "FLASHING LIGHTS"**

Petr Tverdovsky stood near the ground-level emergency access stairwell. He cradled his Bizon in his arms, bracing it across his chest as he surveyed the embassy lobby.

Scores of men and women were lying face down on the floor. An eerie chorus of hushed, frantic prayers, sniveling, shushed cries and the occasional cough drew a strange, quiet curtain across the lobby. His comrades were stationed throughout the area, dutifully watching their hostages with tense gazes and guns pointed.

Another armed man strolled up to Petr, one hand habitually resting on the stock of his rifle. "Where is Yegor?" he whispered.

Petr shifted his weight. "I don't know."

"He tells us all to meet here. Changes the plan suddenly - for what?" the other man asked lowly. "He's not even here! The hell is he doing?"

"Calm yourself."

"Something's wrong, comrade. Why—"

Petr turned and stepped up to his companion menacingly. "Will you fucking calm down?" he hissed. "Don't let the hostages sense your fear."

"Fear? I'm not scared. I'm—"

"Shut it. If Yegor heard you, he'd kill you himself. Get the fuck back to your post, Nikolai."

Petr could see anger flashing in Nikolai's eyes, like embers from beneath his balaclava. "I'm just saying maybe we should check on him, Petr. That's all."

"Fine. Go."

Nikolai snorted, but obeyed nevertheless. The man returned to his station near one of the waiting rooms, his frustration obvious in the swagger of his steps.

Petr clenched his jaw and put his hand to his radio. Niko was a pain in the ass, but he wasn't wrong.

"Yegor," Petr chanced, "do you copy?" He could see some of his comrades venture curious looks at him from across the lobby.

Silence met his inquiry.

Petr turned on his heel and strode cautiously into the emergency stairwell. He leaned slightly to look upstairs, then leaned the other way to look downstairs. "Yegor - status check. Over."

Nothing. Perhaps Yegor's radio had died?

Not likely.

Petr leveled his submachine gun at his hip. He was about to announce his departure from the lobby to go upstairs and check on Yegor when a chorus of muffled gunshots rattled off in the distance.

He froze. Gripped his Bizon SMG. Ignored the chill of adrenaline that washed over him the best he could.

"Shots fired across the street," came one of his companions over the radio. "No contact here. Embassy still clear."

Petr bit his lip. The second November Sky team had begun its mission across the street in the bank. Where the fuck was Yegor?

"All units, I'm going to check on Yegor. Stay on your guard. Petr, out."

He had barely jogged up the first staircase when an explosion erupted in the lobby, shaking the marble steps beneath his boots.

Petr's comrades shouted warnings. Men and women screamed as the lobby was filled with a strange blue light, and all electricity vanished in a shower of sparks and sizzling static.

The emergency access stairwell was shrouded in darkness.

"The fuck?" Petr breathed. He bounded down the steps and chanced a glance around the corner.

As he did, he could hear metallic canisters clinking across the marble tile of the embassy lobby.

Petr's eyes widened. "Watch ou—"

His words were most to a series of small explosions as flashbang grenades popped off seemingly everywhere. Bright flashes of light erupted across the lobby. Civilians were screaming. Petr's brothers-in-arms were screaming.

Petr retreated back into the stairwell, shocked by the flashbangs. He was lucky to be far from the concussive blasts, but a charcoal image of the lobby still seemed to be burned permanently into his retinas. His ears buzzed with incessant ringing.

Stunned, the man leaned against the wall and aimed his Bizon at the door. Petr blinked frantically, unable to see clearly through the darkness of the sudden power outage coupled with his flashed vision.

Shots popped off in the lobby, echoing wickedly off the walls. A man cried out in pain. The sound of a body collapsing to the floor reached his ears, followed by the telltale clatter of a firearm bouncing across the tile.

Petr heard a barrage of Kalashnikov gunshots as his comrades returned fire. The man gritted his teeth and ventured another peek through the doorway.

Dust filled the lobby, and a large shadow seemed to be sailing through the chaos. Sparks of angry bullets colliding with the shadow lit the room like fireworks. Muzzle flashes to the left and right of the ghostly form sputtered relentlessly.

It was then that Petr realized the shadow was a massive ballistic shield, and the wielder's companions were flowing with him as one wave. Red lasers pierced the dusty mist.

And then, lightning struck a second time.

Some of the barricaded windows on the east side of the lobby suddenly shattered, destroyed by controlled explosions.

As the breach charges erupted above, the eastern emergency exit imploded inward, reduced to dust and debris.

Silhouettes of operatives dressed in tactical gear rushed in. Their movements were frighteningly swift and calculated. Their weapons spit fire.

Above them, more soldiers suspended in rappelling harnesses executes an inverted descent, coming into view of the smoky windows just enough to have clear lines of sight on the lobby.

Petr sank back into the stairwell, eyes wide. His heart hammered his chest. Shouts and screams from friend, foe, and civilian echoed through the lobby beyond view.

He thought he heard a woman barking orders, but Petr did not dare give it a second thought. Desperate and without options, the man turned to flee up the stairs.

He faltered in his step when he thought he saw movement in the shadows. The wicked snap of a suppressed weapon answered his hesitation.

Petr felt the pain in his thigh before he realized he was already sinking to his knees. His SMG fell to the floor.

The last thing he saw was a veiled figure parting the shadows and gliding for him. Something heavy collided with his skull, and Petr's world faded to black.


	16. Chapter 16: Head Start

**CHAPTER 16: "HEAD START"**

Director Six stood with his arms folded across his chest. He watched the embassy across the street intently, jaw clenched and eyes unblinking. He knew that the DSU troops around him were itching to get into the fight, and predictably, Lieutenant Colonel Mayes joined his side with an expectant air in his stance.

"We need to get in there."

Harry raised a dismissive hand as his earpiece crackled. "Lobby clear," came Ash's voice.

"The hostages?"

"I'm not seeing any friendly casualties, Harry, but there's so many in here that we could be missing something. Doc's assessing but we could use extra hands for a sweep. Nøkk took one of them alive."

Harry turned and flashed Maes a thumbs-up before pointing to the embassy. "Lobby is clear," he informed the DSU commander. "My team is asking for assistance in a sweep of the building and hostage evac."

Lt. Col. Maes nodded and immediately began radio call-outs to his company. DSU operators swung into action, their squads splitting to take pre-planned infiltration routes of the Russian Embassy.

"Well done," Harry said with a smile. "Sledge, I want Team 2 to break off and assist at the bank. Coordinate with DSU. They'll be ready for you. Team 1, remain and secure the embassy."

"Roger that," came Ash.

"Sir," Sledge answered. "Team 2 is moving."

Amidst the quiet buzz of the Rainbow helicopter slowly circling above the mission site, Harry and Maes sounded off orders, carefully coordinating their units' movements as DSU teams entered the embassy to join Rainbow Team 1, while Sledge led Team 2 out in a sprint for the bank on the opposing side of the street.

Nøkk and Thatcher were the last to emerge from the embassy. They hurried with a masked man in tow, who groggily shuffled along the best he could. Liam, the DSU liaison whose team had picked up Harry and the others at the airport, rushed forward with a pair of men to take custody of the terrorist prisoner.

"Harry," Nøkk ventured as she neared, "I'm sorry. I didn't—"

"Don't worry." Harry waved her on. "We'll talk later. Go."

"Sir." The woman sprinted after Thatcher, and as the pair rushed with their fellow operators to assist Glaz, Maverick, and the DSU, more gunshots rang out from within the bank.

Brussels police officers had hastily set up a new perimeter around the bank, and Harry watched them scramble before eyeing his wristwatch. "Guardian Actual, get us floorplans of the bank across the street, south of the embassy. Belgium United Financial."

"Already done, sir," Kate Harvell responded. "Forwarding now."

"Thank you."

"This is Finka." Her voice sounded far away in Harry's earpiece. "Sitrep on the bank: staff and customers already evacuated. We have Brussels PD on the line. They should be sending the bank manager your way soon, Harry."

"Copy." Harry tugged down on the balaclava he wore - he hid his face just like the men and women working for him - and beckoned Lt. Col. Maes with a wave. "Your signal sounds weak, Finka. Check it."

"Roger that."

Erik "Maverick" Thorn jogged up the staircase leading from the bank lobby to the second floor, bracing his M4 tight against his shoulder. His finger rested on the trigger, and the man passively kept his breathing controlled in a steady cadence as he reached a hallway branching to the left and right.

A dark red carpet ran the length of the hall in both directions, narrow enough to leave ornate marble tiles visible on either side at the base of the walls.

Maverick was about to ask Glaz for a sitrep when shots sounded in the distance to the right - east. Echoes boomed off the walls and coasted past Maverick, and he immediately followed the noises with both eyes open as he kept his gaze down sight. "Glaz, that you?"

"Da. Second floor, east wing. Offices. Three hostiles have barricaded themselves in a suite."

"Ascended stairs. Comin' up on your location, buddy. Hang tight."

"This is Sledge," the man injected over the radio. "Be advised, we've entered the lobby and linked up with DSU. We—"

Maverick didn't hear the rest of Sledge's words, because a shadowy figure not ten meters ahead leaned out of an open doorway, firearm in-hand.

"Fuck," Erik hissed. "Contact, corridor - second floor!"

Shots sounded and bullets zipped by. Maverick instinctively ducked and leaned into the wall on his right, squeezing off a burst of fire. His assailant ducked out of view. "Where are the rest of you?"

"Lobby," Sledge answered. "Moving with the others upstairs."

"Get a fuckin' move on, yeah?"

"Fuck you, Thorn. You had a head start."

"I deserve that." Maverick dashed a few meters forward before hurling himself through the closed door of an office, a short distance down the hall from the enemy shooter. "Taking cover in an office on the south side of the hall."

"— your location," came a woman's voice over the radio.

Maverick had his rifle steadied at the doorway. "Say again?"

"Highlighting your location," the woman repeated, stronger this time. It was Finka. "Pinging on HUD for all units."

Before Thorn could reply, muffled gunfire erupted nearby. Bullets peppered the wall just a pace away, sending debris and dust pluming out into the office.

Maverick cursed and sank low. He rolled onto his back, planted his boots against the wall, and kicked hard enough to slide back across the tile. His head bumped lightly into a desk, and the man hurriedly reached to his headset and flicked down a small square glass attached to a swivel. "Flament!" he called urgently. "Drone assist!"

"Copy that," Lion responded. "On my mark: Three. Two."

Maverick centered the looking glass over his right eye.

"One. Drone active."

A deep, bassy hum pinged over the radio waves as Lion's EE-ONE-D drone unleashed one long sonar pulse, of which highlighted movements of hostiles... through the walls.

Through the electronic looking glass that was synced with the operational HUD and Lion's drone, Maverick saw the red outline of his enemy on the other side of the wall.

"Tango spotted," he breathed, steadying his aim. A split-second later, the report of his rifle echoed loudly through the office, and he popped off another short volley of semi-automatic fire before getting to his feet.

The highlighted hostile on the other side of the wall hit the floor before vanishing.

"Tango down," Maverick informed. He pinched the swivel of his looking glass with two gloved fingers and snapped it back into its secure position on his headset. "Fucker."


	17. Chapter 17: On My Mark

**CHAPTER 17: "ON MY MARK"**

Harry was listening intently to the radio comms. "Talk to me."

"Maverick reporting: single tango neutralized. Moving to assist Glaz. No further contact."

"Sir, Team 2 is en route to reinforce," chimed Sledge. "Close behind."

Harry nodded. "Received."

A ruckus sounded behind him, and Director Six turned to see a small crowd of police and DSU officers gathering around a video console neara van. Lt. Col. Maes waved to him hurriedly, and Harry jogged over. "What is it?"

"Another video." Maes pointed grimly to the screen. "It's in the bank. One of the offices. They have the manager hostage."

Harry peered closely at the live feed. A man and a woman dressed in bank security uniforms stood on either side of a middle-aged, bearded man dressed in a black power suit. Both security guards were toting modded Kalashnikov rifles.

"We are November Sky," the woman stated. "To all agencies and police forces in the area; to the counterterrorism unit coming down the halls for us now; hear us."

"Harry, we're running facial recognition through the database," Dokkaebi said over the radio.

"Copy."

The woman on camera reached down and grabbed the seated man roughly by his hair, forcing him to face the camera directly. "State your name."

The bank manager was quivering with fear. "D-Dima," he said shakily. "Dima M-Molch—" The rest of his last name tumbled out in a jumbled mess.

"Louder, for the camera."

"D-Dima Molchalin."

Harry didn't bother giving the order to run Mr. Molchalin's name. He knew that Dokkaebi and the others at Guardian were already on it.

"Dima Molchalin." The woman nodded and released her hold on Mr. Molchalin, who whimpered. "You are a very special person today, Dima Molchalin. Do you know why?"

The woman's colleague suddenly perked up on the video feed, clearly disturbed by something off-camera. He opened his jacket and revealed an IED of sorts strapped to his chest. An ominous red light blinked near yellow and red wires.

"This is Sledge," came Seamus in Harry's earpiece. "We've reached the tangos' position. Posted up in the outside hallway. Awaiting orders."

"Caution," Harry warned lowly. His words were precise, but fast. "Think they hear you. Bomb threat. They have the bank manager at gunpoint. Seated, hands bound. Two hostiles. Assault rifles. Male, female. Male has IED strapped to his chest. How copy?"

Sledge, Ash and the others all echoed terse acknowledgment.

"Harry, we're entering neighboring office suites," came Maverick in a whisper. "We'll have the room surrounded."

"Roger." Harry pinched his nose momentarily as a cold wind rippled by. "Go to work."

"Sir."

Harry tilted his head up to the sky to look to Rainbow's air support helo, now hovering above the bank. "Amelia, how are you looking on fuel?"

"Solid," the pilot replied.

"Good. I have an idea. Maverick, listen up."

In the hallway outside the office suite where Mr. Molchalin had been taken hostage, Team 2 had stacked up along the walls, covering all directions with vigilant focus.

Valkyrie reached to unhitch a snake cam from her harness, but Doc pressed a palm to her shoulder. "I'll snake it," he whispered. "You're the better breacher."

The woman nodded and stepped back from the doorway as Doc reached into a pouch and produced his own snake cam. He knelt and carefully eased the camera face towards the base of the office door, taking care to execute the maneuver as slowly as possible.

Maverick quietly stepped to Sledge. "Seamus, I'm ready," he whispered, gesturing with one hand. "Shooter on the west side, shooter on the east. Synced shots for the takedown."

Sledge nodded. "Make the holes. Take your shot at the second. Go." He watched Maverick give Glaz a tap on the shoulder, and the pair glided away. "Amelia, we're ready for you."

Up in the chopper, Lt. Col. Acevedo grasped the joystick and eased the helicopter down towards the window. "Copy. Executing slow descent."

In the neighboring office, Maverick and Glaz snuck to the suite's western wall with careful steps. Just beyond it were two killers, two rifles, at least one bomb, and an innocent man trying unsuccessfully to hold back tears.

Maverick crouched quietly to one knee and readied his torch. As he did, the humming of Amelia's helicopter teased his ears.

She had perfect timing. With the noise of the rotors close enough to effectively overpower the sound of his torch, Maverick seized the opportunity.

"That's good, ma'am," he whispered.

"Roger that," Amelia replied. "Ceasing descent and maintaining current altitude."

"Torch is hot. Real small fuckin' hole comin' right up."

Glaz snorted. "Thermite know you're using his line, now?"

"He gets to say 'big hole', not 'small hole' - he has nothing to complain about."

"It's all about size with you boys, isn't it?" came Ash.

"Enough." Harry's voice on the radio was hard. "Focus."

The Rainbow operators obeyed with their silence. In no time, Maverick had torched a peephole for Glaz. He hurried back out into the hallway to circle past his stacked companions and tapped Lion's shoulder as he moved. Lion lowered his weapon and followed the man past the door to the suite where the hostage was being held, and into the neighboring office on the west side. Their teammates remained out in the hall.

Maverick moved quickly. The flame from his torch cast a bright orange glow across his tense face. Lion stood behind him, kneeling and leaning against a desk to steady his rifle's aim at the wall.

"Device in play," whispered Maverick. "Ready to fire in ten seconds. Amelia, you're good to back the helo off. Glaz?"

"Ready to fire."

"Hurry," breathed Doc. "They're getting nervous."

"Copy," Sledge replied. "We'll breach on your mark, Thorn."

"Roger that." Still prone on the office floor, Maverick set his torch down as gently as he could before shifting to shoulder his rifle. "Target acquired. On my mark, Glaz."


End file.
